


all was golden (when the day met the night)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Divergence After 3A, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Mild Sexual Content, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the summer between junior and senior year begins to wind down, Lydia asks Allison to take a trip with her.  Their destination: a cozy cabin, hours from Beacon Hills, surrounded by nothing more ominous than trees and a lake.  It's supposed to be a quick vacation, one last hurrah before the end of summer, where they can relax without the threat of the supernatural looming over them at every moment.</p>
<p>It ends up being so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> this was created for the Allydia Reverse Bang, based on a lovely piece of art by [parrysh](http://parrysh.tumblr.com/), which is included below. I absolutely love the picture and I hope that, in addition to capturing the specific images, I managed to capture the same kind of mood. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that you all enjoy it!
> 
> officially, this is canon divergent after season 3A, but there's hardly any reference to any canonical events at all.
> 
> title from [When the Day Met The Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqeL8gA0SRk) by Panic! At The Disco. I'm super grateful to [Sydburf](http://sydburf.tumblr.com/) for wrangling my run-on sentences and being an awesome beta!

It's so hot out that even the birds are silent. There's no wind, and the air feels heavy and still. It's not much better inside, even with the air conditioner cranked. It's definitely a perfect day for relaxing, and that's exactly what Allison is doing. She's been at Lydia's house since just before noon, and she's spent most of that time dozing, using one of Lydia's massive physics books as a pillow. They've had the same album on repeat for the last two hours, and the room smells faintly like nail polish. 

If asked, Allison doesn't think that she'd be able to describe a more perfect day.

“Allison?” Lydia asks from her position at the head of the bed. 

“Hmm?” Allison mumbles, lethargically opening her eyes. 

“Have you ever been camping?” As she speaks, Lydia pulls Allison's bare feet into her lap and twists open a bottle of lime green nail polish. 

“A few times, when I was younger,” Allison answers. She hasn't gone in a long time; all her memories are fleeting, quick snapshots of leaning tents and crackling fires. “Why?”

“My mom rented a cabin upstate,” Lydia says, gaze lowered to where she's brushing polish onto Allison's toes. “She was supposed to go there this week, but she decided to go to New York instead. Can't say I blame her, really.”

“A cabin?” Allison asks, propping herself on her elbows. “Lydia, that isn't exactly camping.”

“Close enough,” Lydia shrugs. “Anyways, the cabin's already paid for. She said we can have it, if you want to go.”

“Really? Do _you_ want to go?” 

“Sure. It's not like there's anything exciting happening here.” That's definitely an understatement; besides being sweltering hot, Allison's summer has also been boring. She can only handle so many late night Taco Bell runs and pack movie nights at Derek's loft. Things have even been quiet on the supernatural front. Aside from a rogue omega and a family of wendigos that caused a bit of trouble, Beacon Hills has miraculously been trouble-free. Allison hopes that it's a trend that will continue, but she can't help but feel a little wary about leaving town, even if it's only for a week. 

“What if something happens while we're gone?” she asks, flopping back against the bed. 

“I'm sure the others can handle themselves for a week. If they really need us, we'll come back. We'll only be an hour away.” Lydia's points are all good and they definitely weaken Allison's already paper-thin resolve. 

“Let me call my dad and ask,” she finally says. “Just in case.”

“He'll say yes,” Lydia says, blowing on Allison's toes to dry them. “I know he will.” 

Unsurprisingly, she's right. Allison's barely gotten the words out of her mouth before her dad interrupts her. 

“Sure. But make sure your phone is on at all times. And bring your bow.” 

“Already ahead of you,” Allison says. She already has a compound bow stashed in her trunk, and there's a dagger holstered to her thigh, just above the hem of her skirt. “But I'll grab some more stuff tonight when I'm packing.” When she hangs up a few minutes later, Lydia has a smug smile on her face.

“Told you he'd say yes,” Lydia sing-songs, brushing a coat of pastel pink nail polish on her own toes. 

“Well, not all of us are psychic,” Allison teases, ducking the pillow that goes flying towards her head.

“I'll make you drive tomorrow,” Lydia says threateningly, reaching for another pillow. Allison immediately shushes up. She stretches her legs out and goes back to dozing as the album playing on Lydia's computer starts from the beginning again. This time, she actually manages to fall asleep, and when she wakes up, she's covered head-to-toe in clothes. The book she was using as a pillow is gone and as she rubs some of the kinks out of her neck, Lydia drapes another skirt over her legs. 

“I wanted to finish reading the book,” Lydia explains, before Allison can even ask. “Can you help me pack?” 

By the time Allison heads back home, the heat of the day has broken enough for the birds to sing again. But it's still warm enough for sweat to spring up on the back of her neck when she walks from her car to her building. Her palms are slick from gripping her warm steeling wheel and she wipes them on her skirt with a groan.

She really hopes that it's a little cooler upstate. Even by California standards, this weather is gross.


	2. day one.

Allison wakes up to her phone ringing two inches from her ear. Her alarm hasn't gone off yet, but there's no telling how early it is until she glances at her phone. 

It's five thirty in the morning, and Lydia is calling her.

“Lyds, why are you already up?” she groans, shoving her face back into her pillow. 

“Why _aren’t_ you up? Aren't you excited to get going?” Before Allison can come up with an answer, she realizes that she can hear traffic in the background. She has a suspicion that she knows the origin of that noise. She slides from bed, throws open her curtains, and sure enough, Lydia is parked down below. She's sitting on the hood of her car, heels balanced on the bumper, holding her cell and a cup of coffee. Before Allison can answer, Lydia looks up and grins at her. 

“Well? Are you coming, sleepyhead? I brought coffee for you too.”

“Give me five minutes,” Allison says, the promise of coffee spurring her into movement. Thankfully, her suitcases are already packed and sitting in the hallway. She just needs to pull her hair back and get dressed.

She's tip-toeing down the hall, hoping to avoid waking her dad, when she hears a throat being cleared. Apparently, her caution is pointless; he's already sitting behind his desk and disassembling a gun. Without ceasing the motions of his hands, he looks up and beckons her in with a jerk of his head.

“Hoping to sneak out without saying bye?” he asks with a wry smile.

“Just didn't think you'd be up yet,” she replies. He barks out a laugh. It sounds only minimally like the laugh Allison remembers from her childhood, and she forces herself to smile. 

“I was up before the sun. I have a meeting with a buyer today.” Allison's curious to know who her dad's meeting with, but she doesn't want to make Lydia wait any longer than possible. So she hugs her dad tightly, completely unsurprised when he pulls another Chinese ring dagger from a drawer and presses it into her hand. 

“Keep it on you at all times. Give one to Lydia too, okay?”

“Dad, she might stab herself if I do that,” Allison says with a laugh. The laugh quickly trails away, as her dad continues to look at her, mouth set in a grim line. 

“I'm sure that she'll be fine. Hopefully, she won't have to use it.” After a few long moments, he finally smiles again and pulls Allison into another hug. 

“Have fun. Call me when you get there.” 

Lydia is still sitting on her hood when Allison walks outside. She's applying a coat of lipstick and her hair is cascading over her shoulders in loose ringlets. Allison doesn't know if it's the hair, the huge sunglasses or the floral sundress, but she can't help but think that her best friend looks like a fifties movie star.

“Are you deliberately channeling Marilyn Monroe?” she asks, burying a yawn into the crook of her elbow. Lydia tucks her lipstick back into her purse and slides her sunglasses down to the end of her nose.

“Happy birthday, Mr. President,” she purrs before immediately bursting into laughter and sliding off the hood. “C'mon, I wanna get going before the traffic gets too heavy.”

“I was promised coffee,” Allison says pointedly, dragging her luggage around to the trunk. As soon as she slams it closed, Lydia pushes a massive cup of steaming coffee into Allison's hands. It's black and incredibly strong, just the way Allison likes it, and she definitely burns her tongue on the first sip. 

“You're the best,” she sighs happily, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“I know,” Lydia says primly. It sounds incredibly self-assured, but the beaming smile on Lydia's face is anything but. She immediately turns the radio on, and between the coffee and loud music, Allison already feels a little more awake.

The sky is a perfect baby blue, dotted here and there by massive clouds. It's already growing warmer, but the humidity is far less intense. It's a perfect day for their scenic drive. They drive through a few small towns and cruise down a highway surrounded by thick forest. There are more flowers than garbage on the side of the road, and sometimes Allison catches glimpses of animals darting through the trees. As the journey goes on, the roads get narrower and narrower, until Lydia turns into a rutted lane barely wide enough for the car. 

“Are you sure this is the place?” Allison asks, peering through the surrounding trees for any sign of civilization. 

“I'm sure. Mom's directions were very specific. By the way, did you know she's teaching chemistry this year?” 

“That is the last time we're mentioning school this week,” Allison says as they inch around a tight curve in the road. “This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“I know. Last time I mention it, I promise.” The road takes another twist, and just like that, they've arrived at the cabin. Admittedly, Allison had been expecting something the size of Lydia's lake house, but the building standing in front of them is more cozy than anything. It's a single story with an attached porch and a stone chimney built into the side. There's a more modern garage off to the side, but Allison only briefly glances at these buildings. She's too distracted by the absolutely _gorgeous_ view. 

“Oh my God,” she says, stepping out of the car. The ground sharply drops behind the cabin and there's a lake at the bottom of the hill, shimmering gently underneath the morning sun. In the distance are actual mountains, rising to perfectly pointed peaks. While Beacon Hills has its share of fine scenery, particularly around the Preserve, it seems bland when compared to the scene before her. 

“Mom mentioned the view, but I didn't really believe her,” Lydia says, grabbing her duffel bag from the back seat.

“Well, she didn't lie,” Allison says, forcing herself to look away so that she can grab her luggage from the trunk. By the time she manhandles everything over to the porch, Lydia's unlocked the door and stepped inside.

While it may be small, the cabin's interior is still impressive. The main room, which serves as both a living room and kitchen, has a vaulted ceiling and a fireplace. All the appliances are modern and the room is dotted with overflowing bookshelves. Lydia is already perusing the nearest shelf, running her fingers over what look like a mixture of classics and battered paperbacks. 

“Well, at least we'll have something to do if it rains,” she says, turning back to her abandoned luggage. “There's only the one bedroom. I hope that's okay.”

“Why wouldn't it be?” Allison asks with a frown. Lydia murmurs something about _just being sure_ and shrugs. It's more than a little strange, but it's just a momentary hitch. While Lydia explores the other rooms, Allison checks out the kitchen. The fridge is huge, but when she yanks open the door, she finds that it's also empty. 

“Looks like we'll have to do a food run!” she calls over her shoulder. She checks out the cupboards as well and finds nothing but a dusty bottle of vodka. It's a brand that she doesn't recognize, but it can't taste any worse than some of the wolfsbane infused concoctions Stiles and Scott have dreamed up.

“There's a town a few miles away, according to Mom,” Lydia says, coming out of the bedroom. “Do you have any reception?” Allison shrugs. She hasn't looked at her phone since they left Beacon Hills.

“I'm sure there's reception in town,” she says. “Besides, this means that the boys will have a harder time getting hold of us.” 

“Good point,” Lydia says with a grin, grabbing Allison's arm and pulling her away from the kitchen. “This is a girl's week and I'm not going back there for anything, even if Stiles somehow gives himself a tail again.”

“I still think he did that on purpose.” 

“Who knows?” Lydia sighs exasperatedly. “Now c'mon. I've never been camping, but even I know that it would be a sin to not make s'mores this week, especially when we have that massive fireplace at our disposal.”

&.

The nearby town is more of a village than anything, but the grocery store has a decent enough selection. They load up on fruit, frozen pizza and juice, plus all the ingredients for s'mores. Allison splurges and buys the best coffee she can find, with plans on making a cup as soon as they get back to the cabin. On their way out, they pass a community bulletin board and Allison's eye is drawn to a neon-yellow flier advertising an upcoming fair. 

“That could be fun,” Allison says, nodding her chin at the flier. She's not surprised when Lydia simply raises an eyebrow at her, but Allison doesn't let that reaction dissuade her. “C'mon, Lyds. It starts Wednesday. Do you really want to just sit in the cabin all week?”

“Well, I _did_ plan on going swimming at some point,” Lydia answers. This time, Allison raises an eyebrow and finally, Lydia sighs halfheartedly. 

“Maybe it won't be too bad.” 

“It's going to be _fun_ ,” Allison answers. “I promise.” 

“You better keep that promise,” Lydia answers. She sounds petulant, but she's smiling widely, and Allison knows that Lydia's at least a little bit excited, even if she refuses to admit it. 

When they get back to the cabin, Allison doesn't get a chance to try her coffee. After they put the groceries away, she lies down on the slightly musty couch in the living room, basking in the sun streaming through the massive windows. She doesn't mean to fall asleep, but her early morning wake-up call catches up with her. When she wakes up again, the room is cooler and Lydia is sitting at the other end of the couch, barefoot and curled up with one of the books from the shelf. Allison is completely unsurprised to see that Lydia's already halfway through the (fairly thick) book, but she is surprised that she can smell coffee again. When she glances down, there's a still steaming cup sitting on the floor beside the couch.

“Your sleeping schedule is so weird,” Lydia says with a cluck of her tongue. 

“Well, if _somebody_ hadn't woken me up at the crack of dawn-”

“The crack of dawn was 5:14 today, actually,” Lydia interrupts. Allison groans in mock frustration and nudges Lydia with her foot. 

“You know what I mean.” Lydia just hums and flips another page before she sets the book down and turns to face Allison.

“Do you wanna go swimming tonight? Or should we wait until tomorrow?”

“Can we wait until tomorrow? I'm still tired and the water might lull me back to sleep.” She says it to get a rise out of Lydia, and it works. Lydia rolls her eyes and slides off the couch, stomping towards the kitchen. Unable to contain her grin, Allison sits up and reaches for the cup of coffee. It tastes amazing, like every cup Lydia makes, and Allison sighs happily, relaxing back into the couch. 

“Thank you for the coffee!” she yells. Lydia merely makes a “hmph” sound as she slams the fridge, so Allison tries again. “I love you!” 

“Love you too!” Lydia responds. It's her usual reaction, but something about it, something tiny, feels _off_ to Allison. After a few moments, she realizes that Lydia took longer than usual to answer. It was only a few seconds but Allison knows how Lydia's mind works; a few seconds is long enough for her to cycle through dozens and dozens of thoughts. The tone even sounds a little bit different. It's less mock-haughtiness and more... something else. 

As quickly as she latches onto the thought, Allison shakes it out of her head. Her head's still slightly muddled with sleep; all she needs is some fresh air to clear it a bit. 

“I'm gonna go see if there's any wood for the fireplace,” she says, setting her coffee aside. “We'll need it for the s'mores.” Lydia murmurs an acknowledgment, fiddling with the knobs on the oven. Allison slides on her leather boots; by all rights, it's a little too warm to be wearing them, but they have a handy holster in them that contains one of her two daggers. The other is strapped to her side, hidden under a flowing shirt. It's a little itchy, but she tries her best to ignore it.

There's a small pile of neatly cut wood stacked behind the house, just underneath the bedroom window. While Allison selects a few pieces, she takes the chance to further explore their surroundings. At the bottom of the hill, the lake looks like a solid sheet of crystal clear glass. Not a single lick of wind stirs through the trees. It's quiet, but it's not the same quiet that often plagues the Preserve. It's not oppressive or chilling. It's just quiet with no other hidden meaning. She's sure of it. 

She lets out a breath and goes back to collecting wood as a weight slides off of her shoulders. She still has no intentions of letting her daggers out of arm's reach, even while they're swimming.

&.

After dinner, they sit on the floor in front of the fireplace and toast marshmallows on sticks Allison sharpened. Although Allison tries to keep the fire just large enough to make their s'mores, the room quickly becomes too warm. Even after they've flung the doors and windows open, sweat keeps beading on Allison's forehead. She's almost tempted to change into her bathing suit. 

“This isn't going to attract racoons, is it?” Lydia asks, taking a tentative bite of her second s'more. Truthfully, Allison didn't think about that possibility. The room's still too warm to really think of anything that doesn't involve snacking. 

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug. “I'm sure we'll be fine. Racoons aren't that scary.”

“Have you ever seen what _rabies_ looks like?” Lydia asks, hissing the word like it's personally offended her in some way. “It's disgusting, Allison. Racoons carry rabies.”

“I can close the door, if you want,” Allison says. She's fairly certain that there are scarier things in the world than rabid raccoons, but she's willing to make a compromise if it gets Lydia to relax. So before she can get an answer, she gets up and closes the front door, taking her second s'more with her. Some of the melted chocolate has slid down her thumb and she licks it off as she makes her way back across the room. 

“There. Less chance of rabid animals of all kinds,” she says with a smile, sinking back to the floor. She licks off more chocolate and when she looks up, Lydia is shaking her head and smirking.

“What?” Allison asks. Lydia stares intently at Allison’s mouth, a small smile creeping onto her face. Before Allison can repeat her question, Lydia leans forward and rubs her thumb along the corner of Allison's mouth. Allison sits stock-still until Lydia pulls away, chocolate staining the end of her thumb. 

“Honestly, s'mores don't have to be _that_ messy,” Lydia says, licking off her thumb and popping the remnants of her own s'more into her mouth. 

Without a word, Allison gets up and opens the door again. Risk of rabid racoons aside, it is _way_ too hot in the cabin. 

By the time the fire has burned down to cinders, Allison has a stomachache and a definite need for a shower. The bathroom is a little tiny, but it's just as modern as the kitchen. Allison is sure that the hot water works fine, but she needs the exact opposite of that. While she's sure that a dip in the lake would feel even better, it's nearly dark outside, and Allison is not going to take that risk. 

Knowing their luck, there's probably a selkie or some other amphibious creature living in the lake, just waiting to ruin their whole vacation.

Lydia hops in the shower afterward, and Allison stretches out on the bed, damp hair piled into a bun on top of her head. The mattress is plenty long enough, but it's narrower than she expected. Still, it's far from the worst place her and Lydia have slept; the witch's lair that they fell into last summer will always take that prize. 

By the time Lydia comes back from her shower, Allison's sugar and caffeine highs are in free fall. She's ready to doze off for good this time, and while she expects Lydia to make another comment, her friend just yawns, shuts off the light and lies down beside her. Between the still-open door and the bedroom's large window, the place is flooded with moonlight. It's more than enough to see Lydia by when Allison rolls over.

“I think this bed is comfier than mine,” Lydia sighs, tugging the blanket up over her waist. 

“I don't think that's possible,” Allison laughs, getting under the blanket as well. There's still a little bit of soap clinging to Lydia's cheek, and without thinking, Allison wipes it off. Lydia smiles, closed-mouth but genuine and warm.

“Night, Ally,” she says quietly before rolling over and tucking her arms under her pillow. 

“Night, Lyds,” Allison replies. Although the bed is comfortable and she's exhausted, she spends a long time looking at the back of Lydia's neck before she falls asleep.


	3. day two.

They find out the next day that, while the lake is a little weedy in spots, it is, as far as Allison can tell, free from all supernatural creatures. 

It's only ten, and there's still a bit of dew on the grass, but that doesn't stop Allison from changing into her bathing suit as soon as they finish breakfast. She slings a towel over her shoulder and makes her way down the hill, taking care to avoid the rocks and sticks that litter the path. There's a dock that extends out into the lake and Allison drops her towel at the end and dives in, whole body shuddering as the cold water surrounds her. 

By the time Lydia makes her way down, Allison has already swum herself breathless. She's leaning back against the dock, aimlessly paddling her feet, hair floating in the water. The boards of the dock creak under Lydia's feet. When she sits down, Allison can smell sunscreen.

“Are you going to swim at all?” Allison asks over her shoulder, leaning her head back against the dock. 

“Maybe in a bit.” Allison looks back, taunt on the tip of her tongue, but the words never leave her mouth. The sun is really starting to shine down, and Lydia looks positively radiant. Her hair is hanging loose around her shoulders, still in messy waves from the bun she wore to bed. She's wearing a loose dress over a polka-dot bikini, and the only makeup she has on is a touch of lip-gloss. She has a book tucked under one arm and a towel under the other, and Allison truly doesn't believe that she's ever seen her best friend look so care-free. 

It's a good look for her. 

She gives Lydia the best smile she can muster up and goes back to swimming. By the time she comes back, her arms are so rubbery that she can barely pull herself back up onto the dock. A splinter digs into the heel of her palm but she ignores it for the moment, in favor of stretching out on her towel. Lydia is only inches from her, so close that Allison can feel her body heat. Lydia is lying on her stomach as well, book cradled between her fingers, but after only a few moments, she lets it drop closed. She sits up and scoots closer, until her knee is pressed against Allison's side. Before Allison can ask what she's doing, Lydia's hands slowly start combing through her hair.

“It's going to be such a mess if we don't do something with it,” she explains quietly, fingers catching in a snarl at the base of Allison's neck. “I can braid it if you want.”

“Sure,” Allison mumbles, shifting so that her head is cradled on her arms, face pointed towards the lake. It's comfier and, coincidentally, as soon as she looks away from Lydia, Allison's cheeks stop burning. Every single time that Lydia's fingers brush over her scalp, little tiny bolts flare in Allison's spine. The more she wills them to stop, the worse they get. After a few minutes, Lydia pauses, fingers touching Allison's shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Allison can hear the frown in her voice. “You're completely tensed up.”

“I think I overdid it swimming,” Allison lies. Lydia just sighs exasperatedly and finishes pulling the last wisps of Allison's hair into the braid.

“Well, you'll have to take it easy this time,” Lydia says, finishing off the braid with a gentle tug before she stands up. When Allison turns back over, it's just in time for Lydia's dress to drop into her lap. 

“This time?” Allison repeats.

“Yes, this time. You're not going to let me swim alone, are you?” Lydia asks, sitting on the edge of the dock and dipping her toes in the water. Allison can see the shiver that goes up her back, running up the line of her spine. After a few more seconds, Lydia slides in, catching herself on the edge of the dock before her head can duck under. She's a little too short to prop her chin up on the scarred wood, but Allison can still see her eyes peeking over the edge. They look like they're sparkling under the noontime sun. 

“Are you coming or not?” Although Allison's arms still feel a little weak, it doesn't seem like she has much choice in the matter, so she joins Lydia in the water, which hasn't lost any of its refreshing nature. 

The rest of the day passes in much the same manner. They alternate between swimming and lying on the dock, dozing or reading. By the time the sun has disappeared below the tree line, Allison feels waterlogged. Her hair is still braided tightly and water droplets fall from it when she stands up, wrapping a towel around herself. Her fingertips are pruny, and there's a bug bite on her ankle that's demanding to be scratched. Lydia has pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail and as she walks ahead of Allison, she sees that the back of Lydia’s legs gleam with wayward drips of water. 

Allison averts her eyes away from that sight almost as soon as she notices it. Instead, she focuses on her own feet, gazing at the wet footprints she leaves behind on the dock's uneven planks. By the time she reaches the top of the hill, she's stepped on a number of twigs and pebbles. Her feet are throbbing, along with her muscles, and she longs for the jacuzzi bathtub waiting for her back home. 

That longing doesn't last long. When she steps inside, there's already a pizza inside the oven. The bedroom door is half-open and Allison can hear the rustling of fabric coming from the other side. She catches a quick glimpse of pale skin as Lydia walks by the gap. Before she can accidentally see more, Allison spins around and heads into the kitchen, to find something to busy herself with. When Lydia comes out, in the sundress she wore the day before, hair damp and hanging around her shoulders, Allison feels her cheeks heat up again. 

She's starting to wonder if there's something wrong with her. She never gets this warm at the drop of a hat. 

“You look like someone pinched your cheeks,” Lydia says with a grin, perching on one of the tall stools that surround the kitchen table. 

“I'm so glad my family never did anything like that,” Allison says with an offhand laugh. “Most of them don't even like to hug each other.” 

“Mine too,” Lydia says. This time, her grin doesn't quite reach her eyes. After a second, she leans forward and pulls Allison into a hug, arms wrapped just above the line of Allison's swimsuit bottoms. It's a move that completely knocks Allison off guard. It's not the first time Lydia has hugged her, not by a long shot, but Allison can't remember their hugs ever being so spontaneous. By the time she has the sense to start raising her own arms, Lydia has already dropped hers. 

“Good thing we've got each other for that stuff, right?” Lydia says. Even though she's dropped her arms, she's still incredibly close to Allison. Their legs are inches apart; if Allison took a step or two forward, she would be able to brush her fingertips over Lydia's knees. 

Instead, she nods and plasters a smile on her face, wishing she had some pockets to shove her hands into. 

“I'm gonna go get changed,” she says. “I should probably call my dad too, just to check in.” 

“Good idea,” Lydia says. “I'll watch the pizza.” Her voice seems quieter than before. Allison can't tell if she's upset or just tired but this time, when the impulse to move her hands hits her, she doesn't try to stop it. A lock of Lydia's hair has fallen in front of her ear so Allison quickly tucks it back, trying not to linger.

This time, Lydia's smile reaches her eyes.

Allison has to drive out to the end of the road in order to find cell service. Even there, the reception is a little sketchy; the line occasionally crackles with static and her dad's voice cuts out in the middle of words.

“How are things going?” he asks, fading in and out. “Is everything safe?”

“Everything's fine, Dad,” Allison says, glancing over her shoulder just in case. “We're both fine. Things have been good.” 

“What are you keeping from me?” Allison sighs. She doesn't regret the new code they've chosen to define their family by, but ever since they decided upon a policy of true openness, it's gotten much harder for her to sneak even trivial things past her father. 

“It's nothing serious,” she says. “It's just... Lydia. She's acting different.” 

“ _How_ different?”

“Not that kind of different. She's still her, she just seems... I don't know. Happier, I think.” She doesn't want to tell her dad about the other things; the touches that have passed between them, the way Allison has spent much of the last two days blushing whenever Lydia's around. Thankfully, he doesn't push any further. He simply makes a noise of acknowledgment, which is nearly drowned out by another flood of static.

“Well, keep an eye on her, just in case. And be careful, okay?” 

“You too, Dad. I love you.” 

By the time she gets back to the cabin, dark has fallen. There's a full moon rising over the lake, and Allison half expects to hear the pack howling in the distance. But the night stays silent; instead of listening to the wolves, she focuses on Lydia, who is standing in the yard with two plates in her hands. She's barefoot and staring up at the sky, moonlight splayed across her pale skin. 

“No wonder the wolves love it so much,” she murmurs as Allison approaches her. “It's beautiful.” 

“It is,” Allison admits, taking one of the plates from Lydia's hands. It's been a long time since she was able to look at a full moon without even an inkling of dread spreading down her spine. But now, she can appreciate it for what it is. She can appreciate how beautiful it is, without worrying about something slipping from the shadows. 

Still, her gaze doesn't stay on the moon for long. After only a few moments, her eyes drop again, settling on Lydia. It's not the first time they've ever been together in the moonlight, but on those occasions, Lydia's face was set in fear or determination. Now it's completely free and open and something lurches somewhere inside Allison's chest. After what feels like forever, Lydia lowers her head and flashes Allison another smile. 

“We should head inside. It's starting to get cold.” The words have barely left Lydia's mouth when a cool breeze runs through the clearing, gently stirring the hem of Lydia's dress. Not for the first time, Allison can't help but wonder if Lydia _is_ psychic. 

For her own sake, Allison really hopes that her friend truly isn't. She doesn't want Lydia hearing any of the thoughts in her head.


	4. day three.

Allison wakes up to sunlight in her eyes and wisps of hair tickling her cheeks. The braid that Lydia did for her the day before is in the midst of unraveling, and the smell of lake water seems to linger in the air. Her muscles are still a little sore, but that's nothing that a hot shower can't fix.

She's not quite ready to get out of bed, so she rolls over, expecting Lydia to be facing the other way. Instead, she's met with her best friend laying on her back, wide-awake, staring up at the blank ceiling. One of her fingers is absently twirling a lock of her hair and the strap of her tank top has slid down her shoulder. It's too late for Allison to pretend that she isn't awake so instead, she clears her throat.

“Morning,” she says softly. 

“Hey,” Lydia replies, voice still raspy with sleep. “Did you still want to go to that fair?” It's not a question Allison expects, especially not so early in the morning, and it takes her a moment to remember what Lydia is even talking about. 

“Yeah. Only if you actually want to, though,” Allison murmurs. “I'm okay with just staying here.”

“I want to go,” Lydia says firmly, fingers still twirling her hair. “If we stay here the whole time, we're going to get bored.” She definitely has a point; much as Allison likes swimming, it only keeps her busy for so long. Besides, it's been years since she's been to a fair. She's never heard of Beacon County having one, probably due to some kind of supernatural entity or another.

“Okay,” Allison says, burying a yawn into her pillow and closing her eyes again. “I'll make some coffee in a few minutes.” 

“Yeah, I'm sure you will,” Lydia replies. Even though the sarcasm is evident, Allison is too comfortable to come up with a clever retort. 

She dozes and wakes up to a room thoroughly warmed by the sun. There's a cup of coffee sitting on the little table beside the bed, and when Allison breathes in, it's all that she can smell. When she rolls back over, she's surprised that Lydia is sitting cross-legged beside her. Her hair looks damp and she has what looks like a textbook cradled in her lap. There's a pen in one of her hands and the other is loosely wrapped around a mug with a chip in the rim. 

“I thought we promised no school talk,” Allison mumbles as she sits up. 

“Technically, you're the one who brought it up,” Lydia says, closing the book with a snap. “Besides, this isn't for school. It just sounded interesting.” At this point, Allison isn't surprised. She simply rolls over and takes a massive sip of her lukewarm coffee.

“You might have to heat it up,” Lydia belatedly says. “If I'd known that you were going to be sleeping for so long, I would have waited to make it.”

“I didn't mean to sleep so long,” Allison says, taking another sip before collapsing back against the pillows. “I think it's just this place. I haven't slept this well in-”

“Years,” Lydia breaks in. “Right?” Allison nods, absently twisting the sheets between her fingertips. 

“Yeah. It's going to be hard to go back to sleeping in my own bed.” It seems like the natural way to continue the conversation, especially since it's true, but when Allison looks over, Lydia's expression knocks her off guard. Lydia's fingers are wrapped tightly around the spine of her book and her bottom lip is drawn between her teeth. Her eyes are downcast, like she's just received some kind of horrible news. 

“Yeah, it will be,” she says softly. But then, in the blink of an eye, her face completely changes again. Her lips curl back into a smile and she drops the book off the bed, climbing out from underneath the blankets. 

“C'mon sleepyhead,” she says, yanking the rest of the blankets away from Allison's waist. “Since I made coffee, the least you can do is make some pancakes.” Allison thinks about mentioning something about that being a completely uneven trade, but by the time she comes to a decision, Lydia has already left the room. So instead, she takes a moment to stay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, like Lydia had been doing when she first woke up.

There's obviously something going on with her best friend, something that's bothering her. Allison is fairly certain that it's not something supernatural. This seems to be entirely of human origin. She's only lapsed for a few seconds, but Allison can't help but remember how Lydia acted after Jackson left for England. But that simply isn't possible. So far as Allison knows, there hasn't been anyone major since Jackson, no one that lasted more than a few nights.

While she's relieved that their vacation has granted them a respite from any possible supernatural attacks, she's still swamped with confusion. 

She manages to put those feelings into the back of her head for the rest of the morning. They eat pancakes that are smothered in jam to mask the slight burnt taste. Afterward, when the sun is high in the sky and the lake is gleaming like a massive jewel, they go swimming again. Even though her arms are still a little sore, Allison swims out nearly to the middle of the lake, so far that Lydia looks like nothing more than a smudge in her vision. She lays on her back, sun shining down onto her face, hair fanned around her. She can't hear anything beyond the gentle waves and the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. It's incredibly peaceful, but it still doesn't rival the moment that she had with Lydia the previous night, when they basked in the moon's glow. 

No matter what she tries to think of, Allison's thoughts just keep drifting back to Lydia. Even when they're separated by half a lake, Allison can't stop thinking about her. She can't help but try to dissect every single one of Lydia's actions: her smiles, her frowns, her flippant remarks that seem downright rehearsed. She seems to be walking a thin line between being relaxed and keeping her guard up. 

The more Allison thinks about it, the more she realizes that she's been doing the exact same thing, for reasons that seem more clear and more frightening with each hour that passes.

By the time they return to the cabin and change, it's early evening. Based on what Allison has seen in the past, the fair will just be starting to get exciting, especially since it's the first night. Before she can suggest stopping in town to get directions, Lydia pulls a neon-yellow flier out of her purse. There's already a map drawn on the back, along with a list of written directions. 

“Where did you get that?” Allison asks as Lydia smooths the flier out on the dashboard.

“I grabbed it off the bulletin board when you turned your back,” she says, pulling a tube of lip-gloss out of her purse. “And I was busy while you were sleeping. It's a left at the main road.” 

For most of the drive, aside from the calling out of directions, they don't speak. For a while, things seem completely normal. Lydia hums along to the pop song playing through faint bursts of static, and Allison taps her fingers on the steering wheel, absently following the beat. It's exactly what they do back in Beacon Hills. It should feel perfectly normal. Instead, it feels nearly unbearable. Allison doesn't know what she wants to do differently or how she wants things to change but the longer they drive, the more she feels like they're both skirting around _something_. 

But she doesn't bring it up. She stays quiet, and so does Lydia. The silence between them goes from being companionable to feeling _heavy_. Finally, just as Allison feels ready to snap, Lydia calls out another turn. This time, they turn down a wide, heavily trafficked road. There are vehicles parked along the unpaved shoulder, and up ahead, even under the evening sun, Allison can see the flickering lights of carnival rides. She pulls into the next empty spot along the side of the road, and when she turns off the car, she can hear children screaming with joy somewhere nearby.

“You sure you want to do this?” she asks, watching as a family of five walks by, the kids practically bouncing with enthusiasm. When she looks over at Lydia, she expects to see her friend's face pinched with some kind of negative emotion. Instead, Lydia simply looks curious. 

“Yeah,” Lydia says, slipping her feet into the knee-high leather boots she brought with her. “It can't be that terrible.” It's far less sarcastic than Allison expects, and as she climbs out of the car, dagger momentarily digging into her thigh under her skirt, a smile spreads across her face. 

She has a feeling that getting Lydia to have fun isn't going to be nearly as difficult as she originally anticipated. 

That hunch ends up paying off. Sure, Lydia does turn her nose up at some of the stuff, but frankly, Allison doesn't really blame her. They skip over the agricultural tents; much as Allison would like to look at some of the prize-winning animals, the whole place smells like hay and other stuff she doesn't really want to think about. Some of the rides look like they would fall apart if they were so much as poked with a stick. A few of the carnies are downright sullen men dressed in coveralls with greasy ball caps on their head, their lower lips pooched out with chewing tobacco. 

But overall, the place makes Allison recall some of her best childhood memories. Once they're beyond the animal tents, the place smells like greasy food and sugar. She passes up on the candy apples, tempting as they look, in favor for a cloud of blue and pink cotton candy. Lydia holds onto it, plucking thin wisps from it every so often. The crystallized sugar sticks to her lip-gloss and Allison has to physically stop herself from wiping it away. 

She's pretty sure that Lydia wouldn't mind, not after the first night with the s'mores, but Allison still doesn't want to take that risk, not in a public setting.

It's only a matter of time before they come to the row of game booths, each of them promising massive prizes to anyone willing to spend hundreds of dollars on game tickets. Giant stuffed animals hang from the top of each booth, surrounded by smaller, cheaper versions. Some already have stuffing leaking out of their seams. Most of the booths already have customers, but halfway down the row, there's a game with no one standing in front of it. The guy running it is a little younger than the other carnies. He's sitting on a stool, one booted foot resting on the counter. The wall behind him is covered in balloons, not a single one of which has been popped.

“Hello ladies,” he calls as they approach. “Fancy a go? First round's on me, only thing you have to lose is your phone numbers.” Allison hears Lydia snort beside her, and she just knows that her friend has a scathing remark sitting on her tongue. Before Lydia can spit it out, she gently tugs on Lydia's wrist, as an idea pops into her mind. 

“Wait a minute,” she says quietly, glancing back over at the booth. “I want to try something.”

“Allison, those games are unbelievably rigged,” Lydia mutters. “I think we can find something else to waste our money on.”

“He said the first round was on him.” After a moment, Lydia just shrugs. 

“Okay. But if you lose all your money trying to get that stuffed cat, I'm not going to help you.” 

“That shouldn't be a problem,” Allison replies with a grin. It's only then that she realizes she's still holding onto Lydia's wrist, and she quickly drops her hand, brushing her warm fingertips on the hem of her skirt. She turns back around and puts on the brightest grin she can muster, sidling up to the counter of the booth. 

“So, how many throws do I get?” she asks. Her voice is so sugary that she wants to gag, but if her plan works, it'll be more than worth it. 

“Four throws. If you pop any of the balloons on the bottom four rows, you get one of the little toys. If you want that giant one,” he says, throwing his arms up and pointing at a gigantic stuffed cat hanging from the top of the booth, “you'll have to pop that center balloon, right there.” 

“Well, I'll do my best,” Allison says, picking up three darts from the counter. They're weighted wrong and a quick brush of her fingertip is enough to determine that the ends are way too blunt to pop most of the balloons. 

“So, has anyone ever won the cat?” Lydia asks, leaning on the counter beside Allison and running her fingers over one of the other darts. The sweetness in her voice is much more believable, and the dopey grin that floods across the man's face is so ridiculous that Allison has to bite back a laugh. 

“A few people. No one as pretty as you two,” he says. Allison disguises her snort as a cough, just as she throws the first dart. It flies into a space between two balloons, just as she anticipated. She throws the second one immediately and this one pops a balloon on the lowest level. 

“Hey, congratulations!” the carnie says, pulling a stuffed pig from a display beside him. “That's a pretty good throwing arm you have there.”

“She's still got two throws left,” Lydia says, popping another wisp of cotton candy into her mouth. “You did say she got four, right?” The man's smile wavers a bit but after a second, he shrugs and sets the pig aside. 

“Sure. Go for it.” Flashing him a grin, Allison throws her third dart. It thuds into the edge of the board and plummets to the ground. 

“One more try! You can still get the big one!” the carnie says. 

“I know,” Allison says with a smirk. She grabs a fourth dart with her left hand; with her right, she reaches underneath the hem of her skirt and pulls her dagger out of her holster. She takes a second to line things up before she moves. The dart drops harmlessly to the counter; her dagger, on the other hand, flies true, popping the center balloon. The carnie's jaw almost literally drops. He looks from the still quivering dagger to Allison and Lydia and back again, half-formed words falling from his mouth. 

“That was the right balloon, wasn't it?” Allison asks, raising an eyebrow. The man nods, slowly approaching the dagger like he's afraid it's going to turn and bite him. 

“What the hell?” he mutters. “Where did this even-”

“I think you owe us that cat,” Lydia says sweetly. “And Allison's going to need that dagger back.” 

When they walk away, stuffed cat cradled in Allison's arms, the carnie is still staring at the board of balloons, stunned into complete silence. Allison's dagger is safely tucked back into her thigh holster, and Lydia is pressed to her side, so close that Allison can feel their hips bumping together with nearly every step. 

“Where did you get that idea?” Lydia asks, tossing the last of their cotton candy into the trash. There's a smear of sugar on her cheek and the urge that comes over Allison is _definitely_ not a platonic one.

“I don't really know,” Allison says, adjusting the cumbersome stuffed animal in her arms. “I always wanted to play those games when I was younger, but Dad wouldn't let me.” 

“He probably knew you'd take the carnies for all they had,” Lydia teases. They've reached the end of the game booths. There are a few more rides in front of them, including a massive Ferris wheel that actually looks fairly structurally sound, especially when compared to some of the other attractions. There's also a merry-go-round, and standing in front of it is a little girl, clinging to her mother's hand and blatantly staring at the stuffed cat with outright awe. After a moment of consideration, Allison turns and kneels down in front of the girl, situating herself so that the girl's mother can see her as well. 

“Do you like cats?” she asks, settling the stuffed animal on her hip. The girl nods and eagerly tugs at her mother's hand. “Well, I won this one, but I think that you should have it. If that's okay with your mom, of course.” 

“Are you sure?” the woman asks, obviously a little apprehensive. Allison nods and smiles, placing the cat on the clean grass in front of the little girl's feet. 

“I am. I think she'll get more use of it than I will.” The girl's smile is nearly blinding. She mumbles _thank you_ quietly before wrapping her arms around the stuffed animal, which is nearly as tall as she is. 

“You're welcome,” Allison says, getting back to her feet and turning back towards Lydia. As they walk in the direction of the Ferris wheel, she can feel Lydia's eyes burning into the side of her neck. When it becomes too unbearable, she stops a few feet away from another candy stall. 

“Okay, what?” she asks, raising one eyebrow. “Do I have something on my face?”

“You just made that little girl's day,” Lydia says, looking up at Allison with wide eyes. 

“It's not a big deal,” Allison says with a shrug, trying to ignore the flush covering her face. “Just seemed like a nice thing to do.” Lydia doesn't say anything in response. She just keeps staring at Allison, lips slightly parted. It doesn't help Allison's flush in the slightest. Thoughts keep popping into her mind, thoughts about how Lydia looks like she's staring at something worthy of reverence. Allison knows those thoughts are exaggerated, that they're just projection, so she clears her throat and nods at the Ferris wheel, which is beginning to revolve again. 

“Can we go up?” she asks, her voice harder to find than she originally anticipates. She has a few ride tickets in her pocket that she purchased just after they walked in. Frankly, the Ferris wheel is the only ride that she actually trusts enough to use them on.

“Sure,” Lydia says, her voice quiet as well. “It doesn't look too bad.”

There's almost no line-up, so it's only five minutes before they're seated, waiting for the machine to begin its revolutions. The seat is hard plastic and creaks every time one of them shifts. When the wheel shifts into motion, the whole seat rocks, and Allison can't help but grin as they start rising into the sky. 

They stop at the top of the wheel, to let more people on. The view is pretty spectacular; thanks to the lights, Allison can see the lines of cars stretching down the road and parked in nearby fields. There's another lake nearby, glimmering under the moon. As much as she loves the view that the lookout in the Preserve affords, she thinks that this gives that view a run for its money. 

“It's pretty, isn't it?” she asks, turning to Lydia, who has been silent for the entirety of their ascension. Lydia just nods curtly; her fingers are wrapped around the metal bar holding them in place and her shoulders are tensed up. She looks even paler than usual and her lip is pressed between her teeth. 

“Lydia, are you okay?” she asks, scooting a little closer. That just seems to make things even worse; Lydia's knuckles turn white as she grips the bar tighter. 

“I'll be fine,” she says in a strained voice, eyes pointed directly ahead. “Is it going to stop creaking anytime soon?” 

“You've never been on a Ferris wheel before?” Lydia shakes her head so violently that wisps of hair fall out of her bun. 

“Mom would never go up with me. Now I see why.” The wheel lurches into motion again and this time, a small yelp escapes Lydia's mouth. Allison has never heard her friend make such a noise, not even on the nights where they were being chased through the Preserve by something with sharp teeth and claws, and her stomach plummets a little bit. If she'd had any idea that Lydia was so scared of heights, she never would have suggested the ride. 

But it's too late for them to get off now; the wheel is fully loaded and beginning its revolutions. Lydia's throat bobs, her skin ghost-white. As they begin to rise again, Allison gets an idea. She doesn't think about the ramifications; she simply moves even closer and drops her hand on top of Lydia's. Lydia immediately flips her hand over, tangling their fingers together. Her hand is slightly clammy from the metal and she squeezes hard enough for Allison to wince slightly. But she's more than willing to take the pain, because by the time they begin their second revolution, Lydia has noticeably relaxed. She's still pale, but she's released her lip from her teeth and her shoulders have loosened up. By the end of the ride, she's smiling again. 

But even after their feet are back on the ground, she doesn't let go of Allison's hand. She keeps hold of it tightly, thumb whisking against Allison's skin, all the way back to the car. While the sounds of the fair reach the road, there's no one else around and Allison swears that she can hear her heart thudding in her ears. 

“Lydia,” she starts, not sure of what she wants to add afterward. She can't help but stare at where their hands are linked, where they've been linked for several minutes.

“It's okay,” Lydia murmurs. “It's okay, right?” As she nods, Allison sighs with relief. She doesn't know exactly _why_ she's relieved; Lydia's statement brings up even more questions for her to mull over when they get back to the cabin. Still, there's no mistaking the feeling that floods over her, like some weight has fallen off her shoulders. 

For the time being, that's more than enough for her. 

“It's okay,” she responds, squeezing Lydia's hand. Lydia returns the action before letting go, heading towards the driver's seat. Once they've gotten turned around in the direction of the cabin, Allison feels something brush against her thigh. When she looks down, Lydia's hand is sitting near the gear shift, palm side up. There's no sign on Lydia's face that she's doing anything more unusual than driving. Her eyes don't leave the road, even when she moves and brushes Allison's leg again. This time, Allison doesn't hesitate; she links their hands again and she doesn't miss Lydia's pleased hum.

As it turns out, Allison has no time to think about any of the questions that thrum in the back of her mind. Once they go back inside, they change into pajamas and decide to watch a movie that Lydia has saved on her laptop. As soon as they settle down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn balanced on their knees, Lydia finds Allison's hand again. 

Allison doesn't let go, even after her head drops onto Lydia's shoulder and her eyes start fluttering closed. If anything, she holds on tighter.


	5. day four.

Allison wakes up to popcorn in her lap and a kink in her neck. Her legs are curled up beside her and when she looks straight ahead, she's treated to the view of another sunny day. She can still smell perfume, and there are gentle fingers brushing over her cheek, pushing away wisps of hair. Aside from their breathing, the cabin is quiet and although Allison isn't tired enough to go back to sleep, she closes her eyes and presses closer against Lydia's side. Lydia doesn't say anything. She just keeps stroking Allison's hair. 

Even after Allison's stomach starts growling, she's reluctant to get up. Getting up means leaving Lydia. Getting up means possibly acknowledging whatever is going on between them, and Allison doesn't think she has the words for that. 

But things don't happen that way. They spend most of the day sprawled out on the dock in silence. When they do talk, it's about trivial things; Lydia comments on a skirt she finds in a magazine and muses on how far away the mountains are. Allison talks about how the color of the lake reminds her of a sapphire and brings up the first family vacation she ever remembers taking.

Although they're both wearing their bathing suits underneath their clothes, they don't go swimming. Mainly, they read. Lydia has brought down a stack of paperbacks from the cabin and they flip through them, reapplying sunscreen every so often. Late in the afternoon, she closes the mystery novel she's been reading and braids Allison's hair again, fingers gently tugging through some knots. This time, Allison doesn't tense up. She also doesn't look towards the lake; she continues to face in Lydia's direction. When Lydia meets her eyes, Allison doesn't look away. She looks for some kind of sign that will help clarify what the boundaries are between them.

Lydia just smiles at her and goes back to braiding her hair, but Allison doesn't miss the way Lydia's fingers keep brushing against the back of her neck. 

Once it gets cool enough for goose bumps to start popping up on Allison's exposed arms, they go back inside to make supper. It's just like the other nights, but there's more touching. When Lydia brushes by to fill a pot with water, her knee bumps against Allison's. Afterward, when they're washing dishes, they keep brushing soapy water onto each other's fingers, every time they pass the other a dish. None of the touches are entirely foreign; Allison has felt them before, with others. In some cases, it's not even the first time she's felt them from Lydia. But nonetheless, each touch feels new. They make Allison's face flush and her stomach churn. She swears that she can feel them lingering on her skin, like fingerprints. 

It should be strange. It should feel like she's making a mistake, like she's crossing some line in the sand. But it feels right, like a continuation of their friendship. It's the same as always, but it's _more_ , and the scariest part of all is that Allison isn't frightened. She's confused about why this is happening now, why Lydia is looking at her like she hung the moon, but she isn't scared about what those looks and touches may mean. 

That might change tomorrow. But for the time being, she isn't scared of anything. 

They watch another movie on Lydia's laptop after dinner. This time, Lydia lays her head on Allison's shoulder, feet drawn up onto the couch, their fingers intertwined and resting on Allison's thigh. She can feel Lydia's warm breath brushing over her collarbone. Allison swears that she can smell the sun on Lydia's skin, mingled with her flowery shampoo and hints of perfume. It's downright distracting, and by the time the movie ends, she's pretty sure that she couldn't reel off any details about the plot. 

When they get into bed after the movie, Allison can't help but lie on her side and stare at Lydia's outline. The room is darker than Allison is used to; it seems to be a cloudy night, but there's still enough light for her to make out the curve of Lydia's shoulder, the swoop of her neck leading up to her hair, pulled into a bun high on her head. She can hear Lydia breathing, shallow and quick, not the breathing of someone sleeping. Allison waits for a few long minutes, tension coiling in her, waiting to see if Lydia wants to make a move. But she stays still and finally, taking a deep breath, Allison reaches out and brushes her fingers along the line of Lydia's shoulder, trailing up to her throat. Her skin is warm to the touch and Allison can feel Lydia's pulse throbbing underneath her fingertips. When Lydia sighs quietly, she feels that too. 

Allison doesn't move any further than that. She simply splays her fingers a little further, until they're brushing over Lydia's collarbone. After a few moments, Lydia sighs again and shifts slightly, moving back towards Allison. At the same time, her fingers close around Allison's. Allison immediately freezes, consumed with the thought that she's crossed a line. 

Instead of pushing her away, Lydia tugs her even closer. She traces her fingers up to Allison's wrist and pulls. Allison moves across the bed until her head is on Lydia's pillow. Her knees fit perfectly into the back of Lydia's, but she can't help but jump a bit when Lydia's cold toes brush against hers. Lydia continues to pull Allison's arm until it's wrapped around her ribs. Their hands stay clasped together and Allison tries very hard not to notice that her wrist is pressing into the underside of Lydia's breast. 

“Goodnight, Ally,” Lydia murmurs, tucking her other arm under her head. Allison has to swallow to bring moisture back into her dry throat. She's so close to Lydia that when she replies, she can feel her lips brushing against the back of Lydia's neck. 

“Goodnight, Lydia.” 

Allison falls asleep before she can even begin to think about the thoughts gathering like storm clouds in her head.


	6. day five.

The fifth day of their stay at the cabin starts gray and misty. Allison opens her eyes to the sound of rain pattering off the roof, like white noise. She hasn't moved an inch during the night; her fingers are still entangled with Lydia's. Lydia has shifted over a little bit, and while Allison's nose isn't pressed into her neck anymore, wayward strands of Lydia's hair are still tickling her face. She has to turn her face towards the pillow, just so that she doesn't sneeze. That movement is apparently enough to make Lydia stir. She groans quietly and her toes curl against Allison's as she stretches slightly.

“Is it raining?” she mumbles, fingers flexing around Allison's. 

“Yeah,” Allison replies, returning the squeeze. Even as she speaks, thunder rolls in the distance. “I guess it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Oh well,” Lydia says with a yawn before snuggling back into her pillow. “We'll figure it out. In a bit.” 

“In a bit,” Allison agrees, moving closer to Lydia again, even though the action makes her nose tickle again.

She doesn't so much fall asleep as she drifts through half-formed dreams. Periodically, she comes back to the continued sound of rain splashing against the window and the roof. When she comes back for good, the first thing she notices is soft fingertips brushing her temple. She opens her eyes to find herself facing Lydia. While Lydia appears to be looking right at her, Allison can't help but feel that Lydia is actually far away. Her eyes are a little bit unfocused, like she's deep inside her head. 

“Lydia?” Allison murmurs quietly as Lydia's fingers push another strand of hair away from her face. “Are you okay?” After a moment, Lydia's eyes spark again and she smiles, flattening her palm against Allison's cheek.

“I'm more than okay,” she says quietly, fingers curling into Allison's hair. Allison has other questions on her lips, but the words die in her throat. She doesn't want to say anything that might upset the balance of this moment. There's going to be a time and a place for them to go back to normal, to fall back into their old routines, but she isn't willing to do that until it's absolutely necessary. 

“I _am_ hungry though,” Lydia says after another moment, patting Allison's cheek gently before sitting up in bed. “Can you make pancakes again?” 

“Sure,” Allison says, sitting up as well, cracking her stiff knuckles. It seems to be raining even harder now; while the thunder is nothing more than a faint rumble, the day is still gray and there's a stiff breeze shaking the trees outside the window. 

“I hope the power doesn't go out,” Lydia says, padding out to the living room in bare feet. “It would ruin our plans.” 

“What _are_ our plans?” Allison asks, pulling a t-shirt over her tank top. She's gotten so used to the sun shining in that the cabin feels cold. 

“We passed a movie theater the other day when we went to the fair. I don't know if it's playing anything good, but it'll be nice to get out of this place again.” 

“We can always head home early, if you're getting bored,” Allison says. Lydia whips around so quickly that Allison nearly collides with her. 

“Allison,” she says fiercely, taking both of Allison's hands in her own, “I'm not getting bored. You are not boring me, at all. But we can't go swimming, and I don't want to be stuck inside all day. Besides, it might even be fun.” When she grins, the tip of her tongue peeks through her teeth. Allison is almost overcome by the urge to lean down and cover that grin with her own lips. Instead, she just smiles, trying (and failing) to ignore the swooping sensation in her chest. 

“You're not boring me either,” she says. The words come out heavier than she expected, so she tries to add some levity to the situation. “Also, aren't you a little too smart to be throwing my own words back at me?”

“Not every idea can be original,” Lydia says primly, squeezing Allison's hands again. “Your pancakes, on the other hand, are very original and I'd like two, please.” With that, she drops Allison's hands and heads to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. By the time she comes back out, Allison has just dropped a second, slightly misshapen pancake onto Lydia's plate.

“Jam's still in the fridge,” Allison says over her shoulder as she pours more batter into the frying pan. 

The brush of lips against her cheek comes as a complete surprise. It's a brief touch, there and then gone; by the time Allison fully realizes what happened, Lydia is already sitting at the table, spreading jam onto her pancakes. When she looks up, she smiles; the faint blush on her cheekbones is the only sign that anything is amiss. Allison feels like her own cheeks are burning. She turns back to the stove and closes her eyes, lips furling into a grin that she couldn't stop even if she tried. 

They've only got two days left before they leave and she knows that things will inevitably crash and burn once they get back to Beacon Hills. She also knows that, for the moment, she feels too good to even care.

&.

They leave for the movie theater around noon. The rain hasn't let up any, but it also hasn't gotten any stronger. The sky is pale gray and when Allison peers up through the passenger window, she can just barely see the outline of the sun, hiding behind a thick cloud. Neither of them mention the kiss from earlier. Truthfully, it doesn't even weigh on Allison's mind. She regrets not returning it, but she doesn't try and ponder the significance of it. 

It doesn't matter. Not until tomorrow, at least.

The movie theater is a tiny building, on the town's main stretch of road. It's sandwiched between a pizza restaurant and a convenience store and it looks like it's been around for decades. The brick front is crumbling in a few places and the lights above the entrance are barely visible in the gray light of the stormy day. But it's playing a movie that Allison actually wanted to see and the interior of the place is in much better repair. The lobby smells like popcorn and sugar and the seats inside the actual theater are remarkably comfortable, even if a few of them are marked with cigarette burns. Aside from an older couple sitting near the front and a few kids scattered around the place (most of whom appear more interested in making out than in watching the movie), the theater is empty. 

“I like this,” Lydia says, popping a piece of candy into her mouth. “I don't think the theaters back home are ever this quiet.” 

“Definitely not,” Allison agrees. Since there's no one around them for at least three rows, Allison feels brave enough to take Lydia's hand. Lydia's eyes stay on the screen, but Allison doesn't miss the way she smiles. 

They hold hands through the entire movie. It makes eating popcorn awkward, and there are a few moments where Allison is afraid that her bag is going to go spilling onto the floor, but feeling Lydia's thumb continually brushing over her knuckles makes it worth it. Once all the popcorn and candy has been consumed, Allison moves as close as the armrest between them permits. For some reasons, the kiss from earlier comes back into her mind. It only seems appropriate that she finally return it. So, as the film begins to wind down a little bit, she leans over and presses a kiss to Lydia's cheek. 

It might just be the light from the screen, but Allison swears that Lydia _beams_ at her.

When they leave the theater, the rain has slowed down to a misty drizzle. The sun is no closer to peeking out from behind the clouds.

“What did you think of the movie?” Lydia asks as they swiftly walk to the car. Her fingers are still intertwined with Allison's. 

“It was okay,” Allison says with a shrug. “But I missed parts of it.”

“I noticed.” The way Lydia says the words makes a pleasant shiver run up Allison's spine. When she looks over, Lydia is smirking up at her, eyes sparkling devilishly beneath her long lashes. That just makes the shiver intensify and for a brief moment, an image pops, fully formed, into Allison's head. She thinks about wrapping her arms around Lydia's waist and pulling her close. She thinks about kissing her until they're soaked from the rain, until they can't breath. She thinks of shattering the still-existing line between them in one fell swoop. 

Instead, she just swallows and squeezes Lydia's hand. Lydia's wolfish smirk turns back into a more innocent smile. 

“Come on, it's cold,” Lydia says, tugging Allison the last few yards to the car. “I think today is a perfect day to make s'mores again.” 

Allison definitely agrees with that. There's still some wood stacked beside the fireplace from the first day they arrived, which she's thankful for. Sure, the woodpile isn't too far from the house, but the misty rain really is cold and Allison doesn't want her clothes to get any more wet than they already are. She changes into her pajamas once they're back inside and as soon as she gets the fire going, Lydia makes a nest on the floor. She takes the cushions off the couch, covers them in blankets and adds a few throw pillows for good measure. The finished result is incredibly comfortable, so much so that Allison can't be bothered to sit up to roast her marshmallow, even after it starts dripping onto her hands. 

“You're making a mess again,” Lydia says, giggling as chocolate drips onto Allison's fingers. 

“Well, you shouldn't have made this so comfortable,” Allison replies, wincing as the marshmallow burns the edge of her lip. The next time she leans back, she finds that the throw pillow she's been leaning against for the last fifteen minutes has mysteriously ended up behind Lydia's head. 

“Is that better?” Lydia asks innocently, snapping a cracker in half and completely avoiding Allison's eyes. 

“You're lucky I love you,” Allison says. She doesn't think about it; it just comes out automatically. The silence that falls in the moments after is unlike anything Allison has ever felt. The longer it goes on, the more she wants to get up and leave. Sure, it's still raining outside, but maybe she could get away with going for another swim, to clear her thoughts.

“Allison.” Lydia's thin fingers feel like iron around her wrists. There's a cracker crumb balanced perfectly on her thumbnail and Allison focuses in on it. “Allison, please look at me.” Allison takes a deep breath before she looks up. Lydia is kneeling in front of her, looking serious and so beautiful that it hurts. 

“What are we doing, Lydia?” Allison asks quietly, before Lydia can say anything. “What is this?”

“This is _us_ ,” Lydia replies, brushing her thumb over Allison's pulse point. “That's all it is, Allison. Just us. That's all it needs to be.”

“But-” 

The kiss comes completely by surprise. It's hardly more than a quick brush of lips, but Allison still feels like her heart comes to a complete stop in her chest. Lydia's fingers drop from her wrists but Allison catches them before they move too far away. When Lydia pulls away, Allison leans back in. It's just as quick and fleeting as the first, but it's a confirmation that she isn't dreaming. 

“It doesn't need a name,” Lydia murmurs against Allison's mouth. “It's just us. Okay?” After a moment, Allison nods and moves her fingers so that she can feel Lydia's pulse, thumping under the thin skin of her wrists. She can smell burning marshmallow close by but that doesn't matter. She feels like she might float away if she lets go of Lydia's hands. 

“Okay,” she says, pressing another kiss to the corner of Lydia's upturned mouth. She can do namelessness. Even if it's just for a little while, she can deal with that uncertainty, so long as Lydia is with her, in the same boat.

When the smell of burning marshmallow becomes too strong to bear, they break away, falling back to the opposite sides of their nest of pillows. By the time they finish off the last of their s'more supplies, the rain has finally stopped drizzling against the roof. The sun has almost completely finished its descent and although they slept in, Allison is already tired. 

They watch another movie on Lydia's laptop, still in front of the fire in order to stave off the still-lingering dampness in the air. After everything's that passed between them, it seems strange to sit apart, so Allison shifts over. Lydia follows suit and by the time the movie finishes, they're so tangled together that Allison isn't exactly sure where one of them ends and the other begins. She thinks about kissing Lydia more, but only briefly. It's something that she wants to do, but she doesn't want to just jump into it blindly. Although it's not something she wants to think about it, there's no skirting around the fact that one wrong move is enough to put their entire friendship in jeopardy. 

Maybe caution has just been drilled into her, but Allison doesn't dare make a move that might risk everything.

When they get into bed that night, Lydia fits herself against Allison's back. She drapes her arm around Allison's waist and twists her fingers into the hem of Allison's tank top. When she breathes, it makes the tiny hairs behind Allison's ears stand up. Every so often, she presses feather-light kisses against the back of Allison's neck. As her breathing gets slower and deeper, the kisses comes less and less until finally, they stop. 

But long after they stop coming, Allison stares down at where Lydia's fingers are still curved around her waist. She watches them twitch slightly every few moments, and she tries to sort through the maelstrom swirling in her mind. 

There's so much more that she wants to say. There's so much more that she wants to ask, that she wants to have clarified. But she has a feeling that now is not the right time to bring it up. 

Even after she makes the conscious decision to try and get some sleep, her mind continues to race. It's only after she wriggles her fingers underneath Lydia's that she's able to finally drift off.


	7. day six.

Allison wakes up to a cold bed and music drifting in from the kitchen. The sun has returned in full force and she rolls away from the window, blinking sunspots away from her vision. She can smell coffee as well and that, combined with the fact that she can hear Lydia humming softly, is enough to rouse her from bed. 

Lydia is sitting at the kitchen table, still in her pajamas, a plate of toast and a mug in front of her. The music is coming from her laptop, which she's typing on.

“I drove out to the end of the road and called Mom earlier,” she says as a greeting. “She says that we have to be out of here by one o'clock tomorrow. There's someone else coming to stay.” 

“Okay,” Allison says, trying to ignore how sharply her stomach plummets at the statement. It doesn't come as a surprise, but it makes the negative thoughts in her head spring back to life. The last few days have been nothing short of unimaginable, in the best way possible. But she doesn't know if that perfection will extend to Beacon Hills. She doesn't know if the thing blossoming between her and Lydia will stay alive once they leave the cabin and return home. 

But it's their last full day. Much as the uncertainty bothers her, she's not going to ruin it. If the thing between them is only going to exist for another twenty-four hours, she's going to enjoy it, no matter how selfish that decision may be.

“I should probably call my dad too,” she says, feeling bold enough to steal Lydia's half-eaten piece of toast. “Are your keys still in the car?”

“Yep. Coffee's on the counter,” Lydia calls over her shoulder, going back to typing on her computer. Allison grabs the mug as she passes, trying to ignore the sheer feeling of bliss that abruptly settles over her.

Her dad answers on the second ring, and the first thing he asks about is Lydia. 

“Did you figure out why she was acting strangely?” he asks, sounding like he's already drank an entire pot of coffee. Allison takes a few moments to try and figure out how best to explain the situation. The longer she takes, the warmer her face grows.

“It's me, Dad,” she finally settles on. “She was acting strange because of _me_.” 

“What do you mean? Is everything alright?” Allison groans. She was hoping that her dad would understand what she meant, but it seems that being blunt is the best approach. 

“She kissed me, Dad,” she blurts. “And I kissed her back.” Unsurprisingly, the next few moments are filled with nothing but silence. Asking her dad to say something won't work so while she waits for him to get his thoughts in order, she starts chewing on her cuticles. 

“At least she's not a werewolf,” he finally sighs. Allison has to bite back a snort. “Just be careful, Allison.”

“I'm trying to be,” Allison says, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the cabin. “I'm really trying.”

&.

She gets back to the cabin just in time to hear a splash from down by the lake. Clutching her still-full mug of coffee, she carefully makes her way down the hill to the dock. Lydia is floating on her back, hair splayed out around her, eyes closed and face tilted towards the sky. She looks like the very definition of peaceful so Allison doesn't disturb her. She sits cross-legged at the edge of the dock and sips her coffee, watching as Lydia's fingers gently move along with the waves. After a few moments, Lydia ducks beneath the water again and pops up right in front of the dock, hair stuck to her forehead. 

“You look like a mermaid,” Allison says, leaning down so that she can brush a clump of hair away from Lydia's cheek.

“I wish,” Lydia scoffs. “That was my dream, when I was little. I wanted to grow up to be Ariel.” 

“I wanted to be in the Olympics,” Allison responds. “For gymnastics, originally. Then archery.” 

“Have you ever thought about playing darts professionally? I'm sure the creepy carnie would vouch for you.” Allison grins and gently shoves Lydia's shoulder. 

“That's my plan B,” she says. Lydia doesn't respond but her eyes are twinkling with mischief. By the time Allison realizes why, it's too late; Lydia has already reached up, grabbed Allison's wrist and tugged her off the edge of the dock. When Allison pops up again, spluttering slightly, all she can do is shiver for a few seconds. 

“What was that for?” she asks, pushing her bangs away from her forehead. Lydia just makes a quiet humming noise and leans backs against the end of the dock. 

“Wanted you down here, with me,” she says, hooking her fingers into the front of Allison's shirt and pulling her closer. “Maybe I should have warned you first.”

“I'm fine,” Allison shrugs. “Pretty sure I still have some clean clothes left.” Lydia just smiles at her. She winds her arms around Allison's neck and braces her forehead against Allison's. Their legs keep brushing together as they both tread water. 

“I like this,” Lydia murmurs. Her eyes are closed and Allison closes hers as well. “I like being an us.”

“Weren't we an us before?” Allison asks, wrapping her arms around Lydia's waist, ignoring the weight of her sodden clothes. Lydia shakes her head, fingers combing through Allison's hair. 

“Not in the same way. This is different. The best kind of different.” She pulls back and presses a quick kiss to the tip of Allison's nose, marking an end to their current line of conversation.

“I'm going to let you out of the water now. But you should go change into your bathing suit. We've only got a few more hours left to swim.”

&.

They spend the next few hours taking complete and total advantage of the lake. They both float on their backs for long, silent moments, squinting against the sun's glare, wind brushing over damp, bare skin. Allison swims until her arms feel like rubber. When she returns to the dock, she dangles her feet in the water and sits perfectly still, watching as tiny fish try to eat her toes. They braid each other’s hair and flip through paperbacks. Eventually, Allison ends up dozing off with her head in Lydia's lap. When she wakes up, her nose feels sunburned and Lydia is asleep as well, stretched out on the dock with a towel bunched up underneath her head. 

Allison lies there and watches her for a few moments. She watches the rise and fall of Lydia's chest, watches the way her ribs shift beneath her pale skin. She watches and tries to figure out why every time she looks at Lydia feels like the first time all over again. 

She wonders how she managed to stifle this all for so long. She wonders how she's going to stifle it when they're back home.

&.

They go back up to the cabin only when the sun begins to set. As they're scrounging through the fridge, trying to determine what kind of meal they can piece together with the remainders of their supplies, Allison remembers the bottle of vodka that she'd found on the first day. While Lydia continues to pull food out of the fridge, Allison grabs the alcohol. When Lydia turns around, she glances from Allison to the dusty bottle and back again. 

“Really?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Allison shrugs and wipes off some of the dust on the label, so she can actually get a good look at it.

“It probably tastes horrible,” she muses, “but it can't be any worse than wolfsbane vodka.”

“Good point,” Lydia concedes, taking the bottle from Allison's hand and twisting the cap off. “That was the worst idea they've ever had.” 

“They said they were going to try mixing it into tequila next.” Lydia rolls her eyes as she grabs two clean glasses off the counter.

“I think we should stay far away from them on the night they try that,” she says, pouring two fingers of vodka into each of the glasses. 

“That's a great idea.” Allison takes her glass and swirls it slightly, sniffing at the vodka. She has a feeling that it's going to taste about as good as it smells. 

“Next time, we should bring some wine or something. Mom wouldn't notice if one of her bottles went missing.” Allison can't help but linger on the first two words of Lydia's sentence. She knows that she shouldn't be getting her hopes up, but it's hard not to, when Lydia says next time like she's completely sure there will be a next time. 

“I'll drink to that,” Allison replies. “Now, we _really_ need to figure out what to eat.”

&.

In the end, they don't so much make a meal as they eat up the rest of their snacks. By the time they've polished off the last of the overripe bananas, Allison's head is feeling slightly fuzzy. Thoughts flit in and out of it, never staying long enough for her to focus on one for any length of time. Although she can't stop smiling and giggling at almost everything that Lydia says, she finds herself continually glancing at the clock on the microwave. It's creeping closer and closer to midnight. The closer it gets, the harder Allison finds it to keep a frown off her face. She doesn't want midnight to come. She doesn't want to go to bed, especially since it's possibly the last night she'll be able to spend alone with Lydia. No matter what Lydia says to her, Allison can't quite bring herself to believe that they'll stay together when they get back to Beacon Hills. She can't quite believe that they'll continue to be an _us._

She reaches for the bottle of vodka but Lydia quickly moves it away, hopping off the stool she's sitting on. 

“I think we've both had enough. We should leave some for the next people that stay here,” Lydia says with a giggle. “It'll be a nice present.” Standing on her tiptoes, she tucks the vodka back into a cabinet. When she walks over to where Allison is still perched on a stool, there's a hint of a sway in her step. 

“You know what else we should do?” Lydia asks, resting her hands on Allison's hips. Her fingers curl into the hem of Allison's blouse and brush against the skin underneath. 

“What's that?” Allison answers, tucking her heels behind Lydia's knees. They've barely touched, but she already feels like her entire body has been pulled taut. 

“We should go skinny dipping.” The words are warm against Allison's mouth and moments later, Lydia's lips press against her cheek. “Isn't that something you're supposed to do when you go camping?”

“Yeah, it is,” Allison murmurs, trailing her fingers along Lydia's arms. Much as she likes Lydia's idea, she wishes that she'd brought it up _before_ they started drinking. While she's become pretty comfortable with the lake over the past week, she doesn't know it well enough to venture out into it at night. 

“Do you have another idea?” Lydia asks, pulling back slightly. Allison nods, hoping to God that what she's about to say doesn't shatter things. 

“The bedroom's closer,” she says boldly, linking her fingers behind Lydia's neck. “And it's warmer.” Lydia immediately grins and steps even closer, fingers pushing underneath Allison's shirt. 

“You're a genius,” she says quietly, right before she closes the gap between them. As soon as Lydia's mouth presses against hers, Allison parts her lips. The tip of Lydia's tongue brushes over her bottom lip a few moments later, and Allison groans, pushing her fingers into Lydia's thick hair. Lydia's hands slide completely underneath her shirt, pulling it up past Allison's belly button. Lydia's fingers seem to leave a trail of fire wherever they touch, and Allison scoots to the edge of the stool, needing to be closer. When they separate to breathe, Lydia steps away and takes Allison's hand, gently tugging her towards the direction of the bedroom. The door is open, and even from the kitchen, the bed looks incredibly inviting. 

But there's no turning back from this. Allison is more than willing to cross that line, but she can't do it until she knows that Lydia feels the same way. 

“Is this what you want?” she asks quietly, squeezing Lydia's hand. “Lydia, are you sure?”

“Yes,” Lydia says firmly. Even though the tipsiness is still evident in her eyes, Allison can see the pure resolve shining through. “I love you, Ally. I want this.” 

Allison doesn't think she's ever heard sweeter words.

&.

They take their time.

While Allison's already seen most of Lydia's body, she's never gotten a chance to map it out with her fingers. She's never had the opportunity to discover every divot and curve, never been able to press her lips against the tiny scars and freckles that dot Lydia's skin. They seem to glow under the light of the moon and Allison doesn't stop until she's fairly certain that she's found every last mark.

Lydia touches her like she's piecing together the different parts of an equation. Her hands run over Allison's breasts and down her ribs to her stomach. Her fingers trace the curves of Allison's hips like a paintbrush. By the time they start drawing circles on the inside of Allison's thighs, Allison feels like she's going to melt into the mattress. 

She doesn't expect Lydia's mouth to follow her fingers. When it does, Allison is thankful that they're completely alone, because there's no holding back the gasp that leaves her mouth when the tip of Lydia's tongue brushes over her clit. 

The moans that come after that are even harder to hold back. 

After Allison's legs stop shaking, she flips them over and kisses Lydia until her lungs ache. She presses her thigh between Lydia's legs. When Lydia grinds down on it, wet and warm, Allison feels another rush of desire flood through her. 

“How long?” she asks, trailing her fingers over Lydia's soft stomach, just barely brushing against her soft curls. 

“Hmm?” Lydia pants, fingers wrapped in Allison's hair. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Allison clarifies, glancing back and forth between Lydia's flushed face and her own fingers, which she trails even lower. She doesn't need an answer, but she definitely doesn't complain about the one that Lydia gives her. 

“A long time,” Lydia sighs. Allison feels like her face is going to split from grinning. She leans down to kiss Lydia again, open-mouthed and fever-warm. When she slides two of her fingers into Lydia's body, Lydia cries out and presses her teeth into Allison's swollen bottom lip. 

Afterward, they doze, for a little while. They curl around each other like commas, sweat drying on their skin. At some point, they start moving again, languidly tracing fingers over each others limbs. Allison finds freckles that she missed the first time around. She commits the curve of Lydia's neck to memory and she ends up with half-moons pressed into her shoulders. 

Time becomes completely irrelevant, but eventually, bathed in the light of the waning moon, they fall asleep.


	8. day seven: epilogue.

The air rings with the sounds of chirping birds. The sun has yet to fully peek over the trees, and in the distance, the mountains rise dark and huge against the pale-blue sky. The air is still cool enough to bring goose bumps to Allison's skin, still damp from the brief dip she took in the lake. Her toes just barely brush over the small waves as they lap at the edge of the dock. The lime-green polish that Lydia painted on her toenails over a week ago is almost completely eroded away by now.

She's been out of the water for a long time before she hears the dock creaking slightly behind her. When she turns around, Lydia is walking towards her. She's wrapped in a bed sheet, and every time she takes a step, Allison catches a glimpse of the pale skin of her legs. Her hair is loose, flowing down her shoulders like a waterfall. There's a strawberry colored blotch where her shoulder meets her neck. Just looking at it makes warmth pulse in Allison's stomach. Before she reaches the end of the dock, Lydia stops and turns her face upward into a ray of sun that's broken over the tree line. The light splays over her cheeks in such a way that it looks like she's been illuminated from within. 

She looks like someone who belongs in the forest, someone who belongs to nature. Not for the first time, Allison can't help but wonder if Lydia isn't _something_ , some kind of supernatural spirit that they haven't found a name for it. There's simply no way that someone so beautiful can be completely human. 

“That was the best sleep of my life,” Lydia says, folding herself to the planks of the dock, adjusting the sheet as she does so. “I'm not exaggerating.”

“Me neither,” Allison murmurs, pulling her feet up and turning to face Lydia full on. She doesn't hesitate when she leans in to kiss her. Lydia meets her halfway, pressing her lips softly against Allison's.

“I don't want to go back,” Allison admits after they've pulled away from each other. The birds are getting louder and there's a gentle breeze coming down from the mountains, making more goose bumps spring up over her entire body. “I don't want to leave this.” There's so much more that she has to say, so many fears that she could put into words. Before she can attempt to vocalize any of them, Lydia presses her palms to Allison's cheeks. She shifts closer until she's in Allison's lap, knees braced against her waist, sheet pulled tight against her body.

“I don't want to go back either,” she says quietly, forehead braced against Allison's. “But we're just going to be leaving the cabin behind. This is going to come back to Beacon Hills. We aren't going to change.” She presses her lips to Allison's temple, and Allison feels something swell and break open in her chest. 

“I love you,” she says. While the words have passed between them so many times before, they sound different now, in the light of day, with the true meaning of them known and laid bare.

“I love you too,” Lydia replies. She presses another kiss to Allison's temple and follows it up with one on her cheek. Eventually, she reaches Allison's lips and Allison responds in kind, sliding her hands up Lydia's back. After only a few moments, the sheet falls from Lydia's chest and pools in her lap. Allison immediately takes advantage of Lydia's exposed skin, running her fingers over skin she marked with her nails and lips only a few hours ago. Lydia sighs and pushes both of her hands into Allison's still-damp hair, rocking her hips slightly. 

It's probably not the most ideal place to be making out, especially not when there's a comfortable, already-mussed up bed only a few feet away, but Allison doesn't even think about making that journey. She simply pulls Lydia as close as possible and kisses her until she can't breathe. 

“It's still early, right?” she pants against Lydia's lips, palms splayed across Lydia's bare back.

“Yeah,” Lydia murmurs, knees squeezing Allison's waist. “Why?”

“Well, we don't have to be out of here until one, right?” After a moment, Lydia grins and further tightens her fingers in Allison's hair. 

“You're right. We've still got a few hours.” Lydia slides off of Allison's lap but instead of standing up, she lays back against the dock, adjusting the sheet so that it's underneath her back. The entire front half of her body is uncovered and Allison wastes no time in pulling off her bathing suit top and moving back between Lydia's legs. 

“We can always take the long way home too,” Lydia says, linking her arms around Allison's neck, nipping at her bottom lip. “We've still got a week before school starts. I'm sure there's some decent motels between here and Beacon Hills.” 

“If all else fails, I'm sure we can find an actual campsite,” Allison says with a grin. Lydia rolls her eyes and pulls Allison down, knees bracketing her waist. 

“That is definitely not happening, no matter how much I love you.” 

Allison thinks that's a compromise she's more than willing to make.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
